


good

by blckpnk



Category: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Murder, honestly don't know where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blckpnk/pseuds/blckpnk
Summary: Watched AAOL in my high school drama class, and this was the result.tbh i binge wrote this in 5 hours then didn't look at it again for like a month so here it is.





	good

**Author's Note:**

> i really dont know where this came from but i figured since it existed i might as well post it to this teeny tiny fandom

They had collided chaotically. Jonathan Brewster, fresh off a kill, blood still damp and warm on his hands. The doctor, in the midst of closing up shop for the night, sanitizing tools. As he remembers it, as he does often, one minute he was humming an annoyingly catchy showtune and sanitizing the last of his tools, the next there was cool metal pressing against his temple, and a hand over his mouth.

 

“Good evening, Doctor.”

 

He had never seen anyone so immune to pain. Even with local anesthesia, the procedure of creating a new face was agonizing. grinding down bone, stretching muscle and cartilage. However the then nameless man never flinched, the gun, now pointed at his chest, instead of his head, never faltered. The doctor’s hands trembled as he sutured.

 

Once the intruder’s jaw regained function he inspected his face in a mirror, it was still swollen and raw, “excellent work, doctor.”

 

The doctor had to admit, he did his best work under pressure.

 

The man, by this time he had learned his name was Johnathan, barricaded him into the office the rest of the night, inspecting the cupboards and drawers for hours, while the Doctor sat himself neatly and quietly into a corner. Listening to Johnathan talk to himself for hours.

 

“You know, Doctor. Some of these tools you have here would be very useful in my line of work.” There was still blood staining Johnathan’s shirt, the doctor is sure it’s not his own. “You’re quiet, I like that. The last time I had company, he was much to mouthy, you know; screaming and such. It was literally and figuratively quite a headache.”

 

By the time sun crept through the sunshades, Jonathan had seated himself adjacent to him. Gesturing with the gun, he said, “I quite like you, Doctor.”

 

—

 

The doctor had thought himself quite lucky. Jonathan had left him alone, leaving him untouched. As soon as the man had fled the office, the Einstein cancelled his appointments for the day and hurried home.

 

He made sure every window was locked twice, and dead bolted his door. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

 

Einstein woke from a fitful sleep, rolled to his opposite side, and came face to face with Jonathan Brewster. He promptly rolled back over. By the time he had re-opened his eyes, realizing what he saw, there was a familiar hand over his mouth, cool metal against his temple.

 

When he awoke again, he was no longer in his apartment. And his head throbbed. He fought against ropes that bonded him to a hard wooden chair, to no avail.

 

“Glad to see you’re awake, Doctor. I was quite afraid I had hit you too hard.”

 

He screamed against the gag.

 

Jonathan tutted. “Now, now, remember what I said about the last mouthy acquaintance I encountered?”

 

The doctor glanced quickly around the dark room, and saw his instrument case open, metal scalpels gleaming. His eyes watered. Jonathan stepped into the light.

 

“I quite like you, Doctor.”

 

—

 

They ended up in Johannesburg. Einstein, tied up in the trunk of a car, caught a glimpse of tourist pamphlet sticking out of Jonathan’s pocket when he let him have his first breath of fresh air in what seemed like days.

 

“We’re here, Doctor.”

 

He learned not to make a sound. Even without the gag. He remembered the first time, when he was taking them through the city, gun hidden underneath his long coat.

 

_“I’ll leave it off, if you promise not to make a sound.”_

 

_The doctor nodded, the gag came out. “I promise! Promise.”_

 

_Jonathan tapped the side of his face with his hand._

 

_“good boy.”_

 

 

_—_

 

He didn’t actually see him kill until Sydney. He was violent. Tearing, and beating, and _killing._ He had made him watch, sensing Einstein had fallen a little more into his comfort zone. Showing him what he was capable of.

 

That night was the first time Einsten didn’t have to sleep on a hotel floor. Jonathan had rented a two bed room. He shook the entire night. The image of severed fingers impeded into the back of his eyelids.

 

The next morning when he operated he had to redo the nose twice, just to make it look right.

 

—

 

They stayed in Sydney for a month switching between hotels. Jonathan hadn’t killed in front of him again, and made sure the gags of his victims were always extra tight. The doctor could only hear muffled moans from the next room.

 

One night, Jonathan came back to their room drunk. Offering the bottle to Einstein as he slumped down onto his bed. Einstein had shaken his head no.

 

Jonathan shrugged, “Come on, Doctor. Loosen up a little.”

 

He sipped in silence for a while, examining the red stain under his fingernails, “Do you miss Germany?”

 

The doctor sat up straighter, “Yes, Johnathan.”

“We’ll be back there one day, i have unfinished business in Berlin.”

 

The doctor nodded, he was no longer horrified by the undertones of that sentence. It worried him.

 

“You can call me Johnny, you know. I prefer it actually. I leave the name Johnathan with my victims.”

 

“Yes, Jo—Chonny. Thank you, Chonny,”

 

_I leave the name Jonathan with my victims._

 

Jonathan continued to sip as he eyed the doctor sitting on the floor. Knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on arm. His eyes were half lidded, tiredness taking over.

 

“You can take the bed tonight, I’m going to be up late with a business negotiation.”

 

The doctor jerked, “But— Chonny I’m very happy on the floor, it’s ok real—“

 

“I don’t like people who argue. Doctor.”

 

Johnny’s tone was playful. A hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He sat up and patted the mattress. The doctor struggled to his feet with stiff legs, and sat down beside him. Johnny finished the last of his bottle and tossed it to the ground before getting up. He gazed down at the doctor. Towering over him even more than usual. Einstein gasped as Johnny placed his hand on his collarbone, fingers gently encasing his neck.

 

“Chonny—“

 

He pushed down, causing the doctor to fall back on the bed. His hand hovered for a beat longer before bringing it away.

 

“Sleep, Doctor. You have to operate in the morning.”

 

The doctor let out the breath he was holding, “Yes Chonny. Th—Thank you, Chonny.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room. Clicking the lights off behind him. Einstein felt the weight of his hand still on his chest.

 

He slept through the whole night for the first time since he was taken. 

 

—

 

The next morning he realized that every time he operated he left some semblance of the original face that came with Jonathan Brewster. _It looks more natural_ , he told himself as he was suturing.

 

He didn’t believe himself.

 

 

When Johnathan came too, he inspected himself in the mirror.

 

“Excellent work once again Doctor.” He ventured across the makeshift operating room to where Einstein was cleaning up. Stepping in behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He tensed. Jonathan withdrew the hand for a moment before placing it back again and giving a light squeeze. “You’ve proven yourself to be quite useful.”

 

Einstein gave a small smile, “Thank you, Chonny.”

 

—

 

They left Sydney the next day. When they had cleaned the room, Johnny turned to him, for a moment, he almost looked sympathetic, before slipping back into stoney and cold. He reached in one of his packed bags, and pulled out a rope. Einstein worried his lip. Jonathan toyed with the rope as he unwound it, then paused.

 

“We could go without,” He pulled the rope taut, “but only if you promise to be good.”

 

The doctor opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Jonathan let the rope go slack, then pulled harder, making it snap. Einstein tried again,

 

“I promise! I promise!”

 

His back was still stiff, even though the last time he had been shoved in a trunk was a month ago.

 

“You mustn’t make one sound,” He took a step forward, “not one gesture,” another step, until he was towering directly over him, one hand holding the rope, the other pointing a finger into his chest, “not one step out of line.”

 

The doctor gazed into his eyes, there was no sympathy in them now,

 

“yes! Yes. Chonny, I promise.”

 

“What do you promise?”

 

Einstein shivered, his voice coming out weak, “to be good! To be— To be good.”

 

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled, flickering with something the doctor couldn’t place.

 

“Very good.”

 

—

 

Johnathan insisted on carrying all of the bags, and after he had taken them out to the waiting car he retrieved the Doctor. He was sitting on the bed, with his hands folded carefully in his lap, white knuckled. Jonathan gestured for him to follow. Einstein walked carefully across the room but before he could make it across the threshold a hand on his chest stopped him. Jonathan leaned down, breath hot on his ear.

 

“Be. Good.”

 

The doctor nodded, afraid to speak.

 

Johnny led him to the car with a hand pressed to his lower back, stretching all the way from his waist to almost halfway up his back. Forcefully pushing, until the Doctor stumbled, swallowing his breath. Johnathan grumbled, and opened the door quickly and shoved him in. The taxi driver nodded. Einstein averted his gaze. He slumped into the backseat careful to not make a sound. He took a chance to glance up into the rearview mirror, and met dark eyes gazing back at him, he quickly looked away, but then back again. They were still there. Jonathan’s eyes were one part of him that he never changed, he thought in the beginning maybe someone would recognize them and save him. but now in this moment, he realized they were too nice to alter with a scalpel. They inspected him, and he got lost in them in the back seat of the taxi.

 

—

 

They were next in a little wooden cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but trees for a mile around. Jonathan didn’t acknowledge him until they could no longer hear the tires cut through the dirt.

 

“We have to lay low for a while, we have the cops hot on us.”

 

Einstein had completely forgotten about the cops. He had completely forgotten about the whole world outside of him and Johnny, and their little hotel room. He was about to reply when he saw a figure moving inside the cabin.

 

“Chonny! I think there is someone in there!”   
  
Johnathan smirked, “Not for long.”

 

—

 

This killing was different from the first he had saw. The first was personal, gory. This one was quick and neat. He followed Johnny’s order to stay behind him as they entered the cabin. There was a man there, who jumped as he heard the front door slam against the wall.

 

“Wha—“

 

Before he could get the word out he was dead. Johnny had shot him clean through the head. Einstein turned away. Clenching his eyes shut tight. Johnathan placed his gun on the table beside them, and put a hand on Einstein’s shoulder, letting it slide down to grip on to his arm. 

 

“I want you to help me,” He said, turning him around. Einstein’s eyes widened. “We need to cut him up in smaller pieces, so he can fit in the fireplace.

 

“Chonny— No! Please no Chonny.” Einstein tried to pull his arm away but his grip tightened, crushing muscle. His breathing quickened as he tried to pull away again.

 

“I want you to help. me. Doctor. Don’t make me regret not putting you in the trunk, I can sure make up for it now.” He glanced behind him, Einstein followed his gaze to a small window seat. He gasped.

 

“Don’t think about it any different than you do surgery, doctor. A body’s a body,” He said, as he dragged the doctor along, grabbing the instrument case as he went.

 

—

 

The fire was crackling nicely in front of them, Einstein was desperately trying to scrub his hands clean.

 

“We only put small pieces in at a time, that way he cannot smell the burn of flesh.”

 

Einstein nodded, not listening. He scrubbed more furiously. Suddenly, Jonathan appeared beside him.

 

“This place is nice than the hotel, don’t you think?” Jonathan took the scrub bucket away, and poured the water down the sink. The doctor held his hands out inspecting them.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Better than the hotel?”

 

Einstein turned to face him, glancing around the room, it was nicer, and it had a sofa. Much nicer than the floor he imagined. He almost said it, until he remembered the blood stains he had cleaned off it earlier. The floor it would be.

 

“Yes, better.”

 

“The bed is yours again, if you’ll have it. You’ve earned it today.”

 

This time, he knew better than to protest.

 

—

 

He awoke in the night, and saw Jonathan’s figure in the moonlight streaming through the window. He latched it, and pulled to make sure it was secure, before turning,

 

“You were good today, Doctor.”

 

The doctor sighed, brain still slow from sleep, “Oh— Thanks Chonny.”

 

“Get a full night’s sleep, you need it.”

 

“I could— I could say the same for you.”

 

Jonathan laughed, threading a hand through his hair, “I’m afraid the couch is not fit to accommodate a man of my stature.”

 

The doctor huffed, rolling from his back to his side, watching Jonathan check the lock once more. His mouth moved much faster than his brain, “I’m sure the bed could accommodate the two of us. Considering I’m half the size.”

 

Johnny considered it a moment, “I suppose you’re correct.” He moved from the window, across the room, shedding into his undershirt. The bed dipped as he settled into it.

 

Einstein was already back in a half sleep state, and just before he slipped under he heard, “Goodnight, Doctor.”

 

—

 

He awoke to eyes.

His favourite eyes. The stare was intense and strong, and he flushed in the early morning light, remembering the encounter hours earlier. They were closer than before. Einstein working his way into the middle of the bed, pushing Johnathan to the edge. He shuffled back, but a hand grabbed his hip, made him stay. He barley breathed in that moment, watched those eyes change from investigative to intrigued. The hand on his hip laid heavy. The moment paused for a long second. Johnny’s eyes flicker down to where the Doctor’s teeth are worrying his bottom lip.

 

“Doctor—“

 

Einstein blinked, and it was all over. Johnny is out of the bed, and rummaging around in the living room. He laid there a little longer, just breathing. Before getting up and going through the routine. Bathroom, check the windows and doors are all locked, find food, sit and wait.

 

—

 

The same thing happened in the days after, they shared a bed at night, and would say nothing of it in the morning. But nothing happened like the first morning, with the hand lain across his hip, chests barely separated.

 

Einstein laid in bed thinking about it, his hand pressing into the same contours as Johnny’s but not quite big enough. He closed his eyes, content to just lay there and dream for a while longer, when he heard a commotion outside. He got up and looked out the window, There were two men, confronting Johnathan, he held an axe out in front of him to keep them back. He shrank down, so he couldn’t be seen, Johnathan was getting angry, he knew that look, the look he got when he wanted to kill, not just to kill, to mangle. Just like the first in Sydney. 

 

With one quick move Jonathan had them both cornered, he was experienced, Einstein could tell by the way he moved, that he had long since mastered this craft.

 

He began with them, removing appendages, stripping skin, Einstein felt sick, but he couldn’t look away. His heart was thumping in his ears. Hands trembling where he gripped the window sill. Jonathan went on and on and on, even after they were long dead he still swung the axe, again and again. Until his arms grew so weak he could no longer swing over his head, and the once bodies were mush.

 

He stopped, wiping sweat from his brow, and glanced back at the cabin, he caught a glimpse in the window, two eyes peering out. Einstein watched him throw down the axe, and come around the house. He ducked down, sitting below the window, trembling.

 

Johnny stormed into the room, slamming the bedroom door shut so hard the walls shook.

 

“WHO DID YOU CONTACT?”

 

He came around the bed, and grabbed the Doctor by the shirt collar, dragging him up to his feet, “Who. Did. You—“ he swung him around, slamming him into the wall, arm coming up to press around his throat, “CONTACT!”

 

The doctor gasped for air, clutching at the arm constricting his throat, ‘NO ONE! No one I swear to you Chonny! I swear! I promised!” He raked his fingernails down his arm, to no avail. The arm pressed down harder.

 

“Please Chonny! Please! I am good! I am—“ He gasped, he was getting light headed, he felt tears streak down his cheeks, he struggled for air, “Please—“

 

Johnathan released the pressure on his throat, and Einstein slumped back against the wall, gulping in air. Then there was a blade to his throat.

 

“If you tell me, I’ll make this quick, painless if you will. I don’t find any pleasure in harming you, Doctor.”

 

Einstein shut his eyes, silently praying to whatever was out there, “P—Please Chonny… You’ve got to believe me— I— I never…” The blade tip pressed slowly, letting a little bead of blood slide down his neck, Einstein whimpered, waiting for the fatal strike to come. But it never did. He stood there trembling, and Johnathan stood still.

 

He opened his eyes, and Johnathan dropped the knife on the floor, and brought up a hand to behind his head, where it had hit off the wall. He flinched. The other hand came up to swipe away at the trail of blood slowly moving toward the collar of Einstein’s shirt. Johnathan wiped the blood away on his own blood splattered shirt. Then embraced the doctor, soothing one hand down his back.

 

“I’m sorry, Doctor.”

 

Einstein stood very still. Jonathan backed out, hand still in his hair, and tracked a tear down his cheek. Then he stepped forward, pressing the Doctor into the wall again, this time gently, cushioning the back of his head with the palm of his hand. Einstein tentatively brought a hand up to Johnathan’s bicep, barely touching the skin, afraid to set him off. He was slowly getting his breath back.

 

Jonathan shifted closer still, wrapping the hand pinning him to the wall around his waist, letting their foreheads touch together.

 

“I never meant to hurt you.”

 

They stayed like that, breathing in each other’s air until Einstein could barely take it, his chest ached. He leaned forward a little more, tilting his head just so, and pushing up onto his toes. Their lips brushed lightly, then Johnny dove in. Capturing the Doctor’s lips throughly but slowly, guiding the doctor down until he was flat footed. Then he broke away.

 

The doctor’s whole body burned.

 

Johnathan stared at him once more, eyes dark. Then turned and opened the door, easy this time. And slipped into the other room. Einstein collapsed to the ground, trying to calm his breath.

 

In. Out. In. Out. In.

 

—

 

He emerged some time later, ducking his head around the door frame to see Johnny, on the sofa, head in hands. He stepped fully out.

 

“Chonny?” he said quietly, the whisper barely carrying across the room.

 

Johnathan picked his head up, glancing in the Doctor’s direction.

“Doctor, how’re you feeling?” His voice was flat.

 

“I’m okay. Chonny.” He caught his voice from cracking, hoping Johnny didn’t notice.

 

He took another few steps toward him, cautious, Johnny watched him the whole way, until he was standing beside the sofa.

 

“I meant what i said,”

 

The doctor cocked his head.

 

“I don’t find any pleasure in hurting you.”

 

“Oh—“

 

Johnathan stood up, careful to keep a safe distance from him, “You can leave, if you want. I can call you a car. I’ll be gone before the police ever find me, though.

 

Einstein's heart raced, this was what he wanted wasn’t it? to get away? but why did it feel so awful.

 

“Chonny—“

 

Jonathan made a move for the phone, He grabbed his arm, holding gently to his wrist.

 

“Chonny I’m good. I promised I’d be good!”

 

Johnny watched him, eyes flickering between the hand incasing his wrist and the doe eyes staring up at him. Lip curling softly.

 

“Good boy.”

 

—

 

He didn’t come to bed that night. Einstein was used to falling asleep alone, and waking up in the late hours with a warm body beside him. He awoke this time cold. He could see the light streaming under the door, so he slipped out of the bed covers, shivering in the cold air. Jonathan was on the couch. Head in hands as he was earlier. He didn’t notice, as Einstein stepped into the room.

 

“Chonny?”   
  
In a flash there was a gun pointed at him. The doctor put his hands in the air. Once Jonathan realized who it was, he lowered it slowly.

 

“Doctor,”

 

A breeze of cool air blew through the cabin, the doctor hugged himself. Johnny shifted on the sofa, making space for the Doctor. He took the invitation, moving to sit. He sighed. Another draft of cool air filtered through, and he shivered. The space between them felt like a valley, after days of casual touches, knee brushes when they sat together, a hand at his waist guiding him in the right direction. He craved that body heat, but as he subconsciously leaned closer, Johnathan shifted away.

 

“You can take the bed, if you wish Chonny— I know the couch doesn’t fit you.”

 

Johnathan shook his head, and ran his hand through his hair, still caked with blood. “You need it more than me, Doctor.”

 

Einstein pondered for a moment, watching the crackling fire, wishing he were the body in the flames. At least he’d be warm.

 

“I— You can still join me, Chonny.”

 

Johnathan opened his mouth, but closed it before a sound could come out. The doctor went back to the bedroom.

 

He could hear movement in the next room, the splashing of water, scrape of a chair against the old wooden floor. Then silence. Dim light illuminated his eyelids, but he didn’t open his eyes, feigning sleep. The mattress dipped, and he could just barely feel damp hair laying across a pillow. He smiled.

 

—

 

Johnathan would no longer touch him. When they awoke that morning the space between them might as well have been the grand canyon. As he went about his day, there was a distinct absence of human touch. Something he had become custom too in the past days.

 

The days went on, Johnathan’s speech was constrained to few necessary questions, clipped short. One worded replies, no matter what Eienstien asked him. It was as if they were back at square one in the same dingy motel in Johannesburg. The doctor ached for a brush of a hand, the squeeze of a shoulder. Anything. But Johnathan wouldn’t budge. He was a stone wall.

 

Einstein spent his free time day dreaming. It was increasingly more frequently that he envisioned the moment that he had shared with Johnathan weeks ago now. The feeling of lips on his. The phantom ache in his head. It had been exhilarating, it had been terrifying. One night, as Johnathan lay still aside him, he gasped as he replayed it over and over again. The possessiveness with which Johnathan had captured him. The gentle caress of his head. He was so sure the man was asleep, he had lain motionless for hours now. So he took the chance, breath quickening as he shifted slowly across the no mans land between them, until he felt the warmth of Johnathan’s back against his side. He relaxed into the warmth, letting the body heat quell his never ending chill.

 

Johnathan tensed, and he frightened. Scrambling back to his designated side of the bed. Johnathan slowly turned over, smoothing a hand across the sheets where the bed clothes were rumpled.

 

“I’m sorry, Chonny.” Einstein whispered, hand clenching the sheets, “I was just so cold— and I—“

 

Johnathan sighed, “Come here.”

 

“Chonny—“

 

His voice dropped an octave, “Come. Here.”

 

 

The doctor tentatively shuffled closer, only to be drawn in with an arm around his waist. His heart fluttered. Johnathan pulled them chest to chest, he had replaced his bloodstained shirt with the soft fabric of an undershirt. Warm fingers pressed up under the hem of the doctor’s shirt, caressing the soft skin there.

 

“What do you want, Doctor?”

 

He breathed.

 

Johnathan caressed the underside of his head, and pressed their lips together.

 

—

 

In the day, Johnathan was so violent. But at night he was gentle. The doctor watched the very hands that would snap a neck, in turn trace the contour’s of his cheek so lightly it was if the touch where barely there. One hand was caressing his face, while the other traced fingers lightly up and down his spine, dragging the fabric of his shirt along with them. They ended the night like this, but the doctor was burning. He ached for something he didn’t understand.

 

Johnathan’s lips pressed lightly against the side of his mouth, before trailing light kisses down his jawline, to the curve of his neck, right against the jugular.

 

“Ch—Chonny”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He moved downward, finding the small expanse of collarbone that was visible through the top button of his shirt. Einstein grabbed a fistful of Johnathan’s shirt, gasping.

 

“Chonny please—“ He didn’t know what he was asking for, but he needed it.

 

Johnathan chuckled against his skin, rolling them over so Einstein’s back was pressed against the mattress. He pinned Einstein’s hands above his head lightly, using one hand to hold them in place. His eyes were dark. The other hand came to rest lightly around the Doctor’s neck, much as it did so long ago in the hotel.

 

“You don’t know what you’re in for, Doctor.”

 

A leg slid in-between his thigh’s, not heavy enough to give the friction he so desperately craved. He jerked, but the friction was just on the light side of pleasurable. He whined. As quickly as Johnny had encased him, he was gone. Standing at the foot of the bed, looking not in the slightest disheveled.

 

“Not yet doctor, not here. But soon.”

 

 

He left the doctor to his own devices.

 

Einstein traced his hand lightly down his chest, trying to imagine how Johnathan would do it. Where he would apply pressure, and why. Johnathan smiled on the other side of the door, listening to the muffled groans.

 

—

 

It turned out soon was in 3 weeks. Johnathan had a new face, and they were in France.

 

The sky had settled over Paris in an orange glow. The doctor was on the terrace of a newly acquired safe house, overlooking the city, when light fingers toyed with the hem of his button-up.

 

“I want this off, Doctor.”

 

They had never done that before. He retreated into the adjoining bedroom, trembling fingers undoing buttons, fumbling when he glanced up at his… his _lover_ , to realizethat he had already discarded the top half of his attire. His face felt hot, as the fabric dropped to the floor behind him. Johnny glided over, placing his hands on his bare chest for the first time. He pushed carefully, guiding him down across the lush throw. He traced the curvature of the doctor’s waist, pinpointing the places that made him squirm.

 

An unsteady hand reached out and splayed across Johnny’s collarbone, the other gripping the sheets.

 

“Chonny… I need— I need—“

 

For the first time, Johny broke into a full smile. Fiddling now with the buckle of the Doctor’s belt, “What is it, Doctor?”

 

“I need—“ He drew a breath as the belt came through the loops, “ _You, Chonny.”_

 

That was exactly what Johnny wanted to hear.

 

“Good boy.”

 

  


End file.
